Angst

Night time comfort

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Grunting in surprise as he had been tethering on the edge of sleep when
his door had opened, Qui-Gon lifted a hand to his eyes to shield from
the light as he squinted at his doorway at the shape standing there
framed in light.

Though honestly there weren’t many people it
could potentially be other than his padawan if Qui-Gon really thought
about it but to be fair, his brain was on the edge of sleep!

The teen stood there, uncertain, his pillow held tightly in his arms and his eyes red rimmed.

Blinking, Qui-Gon pushed himself up on his elbow a bit. “Obi-Wan?” He rumbled, voice thick with the sleep he had almost reached.

The
boy shuffled. “I-I’m sorry, I just…” He stuttered, tone uncertain and
borderline frightened and Qui-Gon felt his heart break before he
softened.

This was not the first time Obi-Wan had showed up in
his doorway at night, the boy had been through civil war, terrible
visions and pain enough for anyone to have nightmares. The boy clearly
had lingering traumas if not outright PTSD after the Melida/Daan affair.

And clearly he expected to be sent away and to deal with his own trauma as he always did.

“Come
here padawan,” Qui-Gon instead invited as he lifted his arm to hold the
blanket up. Instantly his padawan quickly scuttled inside and closed
the door behind him before Obi-Wan closed the distance from the door to
the bed and crawled in under Qui-Gon’s arm with his pillow under his
head. He pushed in close as Qui-Gon placed his arm and the blanket
around him. “Nightmare?” Qui-Gon asked quietly as he stroked the baby
soft hairs of the others nape with a gentle hand.

Obi-Wan nodded into the warm and muscled chest of the older Jedi.

‘I’m
glad I decided to wear a sleep tunic to bed tonight.’ He thought to
himself as he continued to slowly rub at hairs and nape before rubbing
down the others back. “Its alright, you can stay here with me.” Qui-Gon
promised quietly.

There was a little sniffle and then Obi-Wan
cuddled as close as his small body allowed him while accepting the
comforts of his master, his little hands tightening into the others
sleep tunic.

When the other didn’t make any noises for close to a
half hour, Qui-Gon started to suspect the other was asleep and settled
his hand on the boys back as he settled to try and go back to sleep.
Honestly it wouldn’t take too much with the warm little teddy curled
into his body.

However just moments before he could, Obi-Wan did
speak up. “I’m sorry master, I’m suppose to take care of myself but I
keep coming here and crawling into your bed.” He hiccuped quietly and
hid his face in Qui-Gon’s chest.

To be fair, Qui-Gon couldn’t see
the other anyhow as he couldn’t see in the dark. Pulling the boy a bit
up he instead pressed a soft kiss to the redhead’s forehead. “Don’t
Obi-Wan. I am here to be your guardian and your teacher, that is the job
of a master and that includes helping you through any eventual issues
you have. As long as you trust me to help you.” Qui-Gon murmured
quietly.

There was a little sniffle and then a nod. “I trust you.
You’re safe… you’re big and safe.” Obi-Wan whispered so quietly Qui-Gon
almost couldn’t hear him.

Smiling into the dark, Qui-Gon pressed
another kiss to the others forehead. “Then I’ll keep on trying to look
after you, everyday for as long as you stay my padawan.” He promised
softly.

There was a soft snuffle and then Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the others chest, holding on. “Thank you…” He whispered.

Smiling into the dark, Qui-Gon pressed his nose to the others hair.

He may not be able to guard Obi-Wan from his nightmares or from the visions the Force sent him… but he could reassure him.

Oh, the kyber little shots one, maybe learn about when Obi-Wan’s freckles started to glow? Because we know they didn’t glow as a child, so I’m really curious.

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His padawan is a special child.

Qui-Gon is one of the few people in the temple that is aware just how special Obi-Wan truly is and he will do anything in his power to ensure that no one outside those already aware learn just how unique he is.

Of course, teaching a teenager emotional control wasn’t exactly the easiest, their brains swimming in hormones and impulses but Obi-Wan did his best. Qui-Gon was actually rather proud of how put together his padawan was, he was after all just turning sixteen this year.

For those instances where he couldn’t keep his tears at bay, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both carried special pouches to store the kyber tears, to hide them from view both visually and in the Force. Accidents happened and Qui-Gon wasn’t about to scold his boy when tears were natural.

Of course, just because he thinks he’s prepared for everything he thinks a Star Child’s biology will throw at him…

Well, a wrench is thrown into all of Qui-Gon’s planning one morning.

It starts out as normal, that’s what’s so mystifying, no warning at all for what is to come.

Its an utterly normal, slightly gray morning, rain falling on Coruscant as Qui-Gon quietly enjoys a cup of tea while waiting for his padawan to wake, letting the boy sleep in a bit.

Its the weekend, so no lessons have been scheduled and Qui-Gon has already decided that Obi-Wan can get the day of, so he has no need to get his padawan out of bed in a hurry and send him of with breakfast and some morning meditation today.

He needs some decompression time, to explore his own interests and maybe see his friends if he wishes.

With his grades, Obi-Wan more than deserved the time off and Qui-Gon has no complaints about the boy’s meditation and saber practice. He’s well within the acceptable range of a normal padawan at his age.

Which is why he gets his own shock when Obi-Wan’s emotions suddenly spills across their bond in a mix of fear and shock, Qui-Gon rising quickly with his cup still in his hand, hot liquid spilling over his hand as a loud squeak suddenly comes from the others bedroom.

Hissing, he quickly set it down on the table, wondering what had woken his padawan so sharply, Qui-Gon’s own heart in his throat as he makes his way towards Obi-Wan’s bedroom quickly.

Before he could reach it though, Obi-Wan’s door slips open, his wide eyed padawan standing with his hanging over his shoulder and his clothes rumpled from sleep.

Not that Qui-Gon notices that.

No, he’s too busy staring at Obi-Wan, his mouth hanging open unattractively as he stares at a collection of stars across Obi-Wan’s face along with the others eyes glowing ever so faintly.

The latter he might not have noticed if he wasn’t so used to Obi-Wan, but he is very familiar with the his padawan’s eyes and he sees the new glow they now carry.

But his face is what has Qui-Gon’s attention most firmly and it takes him a full minute before he recognizes that the ‘stars’ are freckles.

Obi-Wan’s freckles have turned into a pathway of glowing lights, dotting his face. “Oh Force, Obi-Wan, what…” He rasped, stepping closer to cup the others face.

“I don’t know master, I woke up and… they’re on my hands too.” Obi-Wan held his hands up, distressed and shaking, eyes watering slightly with his emotions as his lips quivering with emotions.

Rubbing at one of the freckles on the boy’s cheek with his thumb, Qui-Gon bit his bottom lip. If he was to take a guess, he’d imagine all of Obi-Wan’s freckles had now turned into an array of stars.

He had no doubt that this was related to the others biology, to being a star child. “…We’re going to the healers, go fetch your robe with the large hood. If we go quickly, most of the temple will be asleep still,” He stated slowly. “Quickly now, I’ll comm Vokara Che and have her ready.” Qui-Gon murmured soothingly, trying to ease the others fear.

There were only a few healers allowed to treat Obi-Wan, due to his unique nature and Qui-Gon would admit, he preferred Vokara Che, the younger woman was a stern but good healer.

Stroking the others cheeks with his thumbs to comfort, Qui-Gon gently squeezed to get the others attention. “We’ll deal with this Obi-Wan, trust me.” He murmured a tad sternly.

Thankfully, those words had the intended effect, he could feel Obi-Wan slump slightly into his grasp, nodding. “I do master. I do.” He sniffled slightly, reaching out and hugging his master around the middle.

Breathing out, Qui-Gon ran his hand over the soft bristle of Obi-Wan’s hair.

He wasn’t sure he could help but hopefully, the healers would have an idea. ‘Thank the Force he still trusts me…’ Qui-Gon hugged the boy tightly to him for a few seconds before pushing him back and into his room, summoning his own comms to call, worry and resignation weighing heavily on him.

omg you tore my heart out with Dangerous Galaxy but I cannot wait for the vod’e’s vengence. The Senate–the Republic in general–will have no idea how to handle it. No one serves ruthless violent loving protection like a Mandalorian. And the Jedi have the largest collection of Mandalorians in the galaxy. Yep. The Senate is going to bitterly regret all their choices when the Vod’alor is done with them.

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In the short time frame they had, there weren’t a lot of things they could do about the biochips inside their heads.

They couldn’t bring every single vode in for surgery, it would be too obvious and time consuming and not every vode might react well to said surgery. The idea of harming their own…

Well, the troopers didn’t want that.

So, the medics ended up brainstorming, having less than three weeks to not only figure out what to do but also deactivate the chips.

Not that they were sure what was on the chips yet but their Vod’alor’s suspicion was a valid one, one that many troopers were starting to believe when presented with the circumstantial evidence they had.

It took a full week before someone finally had a viable solution and in that time frame, two more Senators had been killed and one Jedi had been left in a severe condition.

Much to the rage of said Jedi trooper’s.

They were going to calcify the tissue of the biochip and kill it, leaving the biochip inert and unable to exert any influence on the troopers.

How you might ask?

Nanobots, injected with a programmed purpose to seek out the biochip along with an additional calcium.

This would take care of the biochip.

Honestly, even without the suspicion of what was on the biochip, they might have needed to do this at some point. Biochips were made to control and the troopers refused to be leashed to whoever held the other end of the order.

The knowledge of said biochips made some troopers bitter, but they were used to being bitter about their upbringing, about the longnecks and the Republic’s double standard when it came to the GAR.

Settling onto the bed, Cody eyed Helix as the other filled in a hypospray with solution.

It looked so innocent, almost clear.

The CMO of the 212th had already tested the nanobot injection and calcifying on five other troopers, all of them needing a day of rest but coming out of it no worse for wear. Though Wooley had claimed he tasted blue for five hours, but that could have been a joke.

“Alright Vod’alor, I’m gonna ask you to lay down now,” Helix stepped over to him and Cody grunted but did as told. “The nanobots rushing up to your brain to get to work tends to leave one dizzy we’ve found.” The medic explained.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable out of his armor and the upper blacks, Cody simply nodded and watched as Helix cleaned his upper left arm.

And then the shot was set.

It was felt odd, like a constant pressure for five seconds along with a cold feeling and then it was gone. “…Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” Cody noted quietly, frowning down at his arm.

Helix smiled, setting the hypo aside and pulling off his gloves. “Its not, but like I said, the nanobots moving makes people dizzy, if you feel like you need to vomit, just do it, Boil, Longshot, Commander Fox and Sinker have all already done it.” He explained.

Cody snorted faintly but nodded, only to grunt as he wave of dizziness went through his system.

There was that sensation Helix promised.

Since a days rest was required, each legion and battalion was working slowly through their troopers so not to cause an uproar if a large amount of them were resting.

It was slow going but quicker than surgery would do and would be done before another week had passed.

Of course, there would be the troopers outside of Coruscant, though Alpha-17 had confirmed that on Kamino, they had interrupted the biochip insertion in new troopers and that every trooper on Kamino that had them were slowly being processed to calcify their biochips.

That was good, as long as the troopers kept control of the longnecks, no one would be the wiser and even if someone were to discover that something was up… it was too late by now.

Things were progressing quickly.

There was only one thing bothering Cody at this point, laying in bed in the barracks medbay C, other troopers lining the beds around him, though even the sound of snoring wasn’t what was bothering Cody at this moment.

Just one single thing was truly biting him…

He hadn’t seen Obi-Wan in over a week, not since he had escorted the Jedi back to the temple, his General still bruised and limping but better than when he had come to the barracks.

‘Is he eating? Sleeping? Did General Skywalker make sure he took care of everything? He would have needed to apply bacta for another two days…’ Cody’s dizzy mind whirled with his questions, questions he didn’t have answers to.

His compulsion to check on the other had been kept in check, Cody didn’t want the other to feel trapped or forced to answer. He knew that many Jedi were horrified that the GAR knew about the dark side of their service to the Republic and Cody didn’t want…

He didn’t want Obi-Wan to become uncomfortable with them.

With him.

The last thing Cody wanted was for Obi-Wan to start shying away from him.

It would break his heart for sure.

But when hurt, you didn’t think rationally and the Jedi had gone through decades of harm from people that made the very law they served.

Generations and some Jedi showed the visible proof of it through their behaviors. From Anakin Skywalker’s early war rages as he turned twenty, to Quinlan Vos promiscuous and even Luminara Unduli’s enforced serenity and seemingly cold demeanor.

Abuse and pain like the one the Jedi were going through left scars, even in people prepared for it, generations of hurting Jedi and Cody knew that when things were finally over, he’d have to go through the GAR with a fine toothed comb.

Already a few troopers had cautiously and fearfully come forward to their captains or commanders, admitting that the Jedi weren’t the only ones taken advantage of at times.

In all of this osik, there was only one good thing Cody had come to find.

The service corps of the Jedi were not in the same servitude as the Jedi order.

While part of the Jedi, someone on the council had managed to get it so the agricorps, the explorer corps and healers were not affected by the same orders, though it helped that most of those were not on Coruscant.

They were mostly out of reach for the Senators that might harm them.

Cody wasn’t sure which council member had the wisdom to manage to separate those from the same way the Order answered, he didn’t think it was Yoda as the old troll seemed so exhausted the one time Cody managed to speak to him about what was going on.

The old man had looked so worn out, thin in a way Cody couldn’t explain as he haltingly explained to Cody that it only happened a few fifty years after the Jedi order started serving the Senate. Cody hadn’t asked more, couldn’t stomach seeing how worn out the old Jedi looked.

After seeing generation after generation of the young he cared for being abused in such a way, wouldn’t anyone be exhausted?

‘Not long now… not long and we’ll put a stop to it, all of it.’ Cody reminded himself sternly, fighting a wave of nausea that he wasn’t sure was the nanobots or the reminder.

Regardless, he’d rather not vomit on another medics shoes.

Poor Kix boots.

Severed stomach: Don’t let Din die! D8

Posted on av swmoddy

They almost shoot each other, standing there in the shadows of Din’s ship.

That is something neither Boba or Paz will tell Din though, but they almost end up shooting each other as both are paranoid bastards and they’re both concerned.

To be fair, they are both answering different emergency signals, both are unaware of each other and both think the other might be the enemy that caused Din’s current situation.

Thankfully, outside of a warning shot from Fennec at Paz feet, nothing too bad happened… except wasted time.

Time they might not have, especially not with how long it took for them all to get to the planet, the lack of response from inside the ship highly worrying.

“I got the codes to get it open,” Boba grumbled as he made his way past the big shabuir in blue, already typing into his vambrace, his eyes focused on the ship he loaned Din, knowing Fennec had his back. “Din never changed them when he took possession of the ship.” He stated, knowing from the monitor program installed that Din hadn’t.

Paz, his cannon reluctantly shelved for now, nodded slowly. “Sounds like the verd’ika. As long as it wasn’t his personal room, he never bothered to changing codes to anything.” He sighed a bit, shaking his head.

You’d think Din knew better, ensuring his own privacy to rooms only he should have access to.

The ramp thankfully lowered, Boba correct that the codes were the same.

Instantly, all three tensed as the ramp finally extended into the muddy ground.

It was covered in rusty colored blood, dried blood.

Din’s blood.

Hissing slightly, his vocoder crackling, Boba marched up the ramp as quickly as his feet could take him, Paz right behind him with Fennec remaining outside to keep guard just in case. She wasn’t a medical expert, she wouldn’t be much help anyhow.

Following the blood, both males made their way inside, moving through the ships towards the cockpit.

Sending a mental prayer, Boba slapped his hands over the door controller, listening to the hiss as it opened to admit the two.

Instantly, Boba’s eyes fell on Din, the other collapsed into the pilot chair and he felt his breath catch.

Behind him, Paz let out a curse, moving past a frozen Boba.

Din looked dead.

His shiny beskar was covered in dried, rusty blood, Din’s blood, shrapnel was sticking out of his side, his arms and his legs. Din was slumped in the chair, his body lose with what Boba hoped was unconsciousness and he couldn’t see the others chest rise and fall.

Boba couldn’t look away from him even as he knows he should move and check on the other, find the medical kit, do SOMETHING.

But he can’t, his attention is on Din and Din alone.

His eyes roam over the way Din is slumped in the chair like a discarded ragdoll, abandoned by a child done playing rough. Can’t look away from the sight of the shrapnel embedded into the others left side, the warped metal as wide as Din’s hand and as long as his arm and Boba can’t tell how much of the blackened metal is inside of the other, how much damage has been done to the other.

Finally however, he manages to force himself forward as Paz yanked his own glove off and pressed his fingers under the helmet to get his pulse, Boba made himself breath as he reached up into the overhead compartment to the left, knowing there should be a medical kit there.

There was, it was fully stocked even from the looks of, the seal unopened.

“He’s alive but barely breathing, his pulse is too slow,” Paz growled out, Boba coming over with the case. “I don’t… I don’t know if we can move him.” He tacked on, deep voice sounding uncertain.

But alive meant there was still a chance.

Opening the case with a small growl, Boba dug through the case. “We can’t remove the shrapnel, he will bleed out in moments,” He agreed, listening to the shifting of armor. “But we can move him if we do this.” He pulled out a bacta injector.

Both stared at it.

The risk of injecting bacta into Din when he had shrapnel inside of him was high, many people suffered permanent organ damage from bacta injections before with shrapnel smaller than what was inside Din.

But they had no other choice and Boba reached out, pushing Din’s head to the side to pull down the high neck of his shirt. ‘If this causes anything permanent, forgive me Din. But I’d rather have you alive.’ He thought grimly as he set it, ordering Paz to find them a stretcher.

Moving Din was taxing, both Boba and Paz hesitating with precious moments while staring at the largest piece of shrapnel and both flinched when they heard an exhalation from Din as he was moved.

It hurt obviously, but Din was too far gone to wake up even with the stimuli.

Thankfully, the hoverstretcher made things easier on them, moving Din to Slave 1 and into the medbay, where Fennec stood watch over their injured bounty hunter as Boba attached him to monitoring equipment with Paz hovering at his shoulder.  “…We’re going have to be quick, return to Tatooine as fast as we can. He’s going to become infected by the shrapnel soon enough and it will turn his flesh necrotic.” Boba murmured as he removed Din’s bloody gloves.

His stomach twisted a bit with how stiff with blood they were, how much of Din’s blood must truly be soaked into it.

“I’ll go fetch my stuff, I don’t know the other ship, so Din’s things…” Paz trailed off.

“I’ll do it, I know where everything is. Din didn’t personalize the ship much but I know where his quarters on it are,” Boba grunted before turning to Fennec. “Remove his armor in the meantime, chest, greaves, vambraces but leave the helmet as usually.” He stated sternly, half noting the tenseness of the other mandalorian easing.

Ugh, the Watch and their helmets, made medical care difficult.

Fennec, normally being one for a sarcastic quip, simply nodded, her face drawn tight as she stepped in to work the chest piece off first.

He turned to Paz. “Ten minutes, and I take off. Tayli’bac?” He stated sternly, receiving a quick nod. ‘Just hold on for us Din, just a little longer…’

Shabuir = Asshole

Verd’ika = Little soldier

Tayli’bac? = Got it? Okay? Understand? (Often very aggressive.)

Ouch, NeedForTouch has poor DIn going through the wringer! But I’m glad Paz showed up when he did – Din needs to be able to let it out, instead of just ghosting thru existence. Maybe now that Paz is in the picture, Din will be more willing (once he’s a bit less traumatized by the loss of his kit) to really approach Boba about becoming truly family, instead of just a «maybe packmate»? So it won’t be left it to chance whether or not Boba would ever treat him like family because he FEELS like it.

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Drawing his hand gently over Din’s chest, Paz pressed his palm to the warmth, listening quietly as he felt the steady beat of Din’s heart and his slow breathing.

Asleep.

Fully and deeply asleep, an exhausted sleep from his emotional overturn the night before.

Still, despite being reassured by how asleep Din was, Paz very slowly and very gingerly pulled away from the omega. He was terrified of waking the exhausted man, Din needed to sleep, even without seeing the others face, Paz had noticed the exhaustion in the slump of the others shoulders and body the day before.

Thankfully, Din barely reacted to Paz pulling away, only going as far as muttering softly and curling into the warm spot the alpha left behind, snuffling softly.

It made Paz heart ache a bit as he watched the other, wishing he could see the others face, stroke his hair, give him everything the other deserved.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Paz quietly moved to the fresher to do his business and then made his way out of the house. He wanted to find some decent breakfast for Din before he woke, something warm would be nice.

He knew that Din liked spicy things but he wasn’t sure that eating spicy things in the morning, especially after the breakdown Din had last night and the last couple of days of emotional turmoil would be so good.

Din needed something nourishing, filling but not too powerful in case his appetite had declined. ‘Eggs would be good, not sure I can get him to eat meat though, so no sausage… maybe an omelet and some warm bread rolls?’ Paz mused as he stepped out, not bothering putting on his armor or bringing his blaster canon for a quick food run, as naked as that made him feel.

He did bring his blaster and viroblade though as he stepped into the grey morning light of Nevarro, the temperature making his skin break out in goosebumps as it was fairly cold right before the sun rose fully.

Paz was fairly grateful that he took at least some weapons with him as the moment the door closed behind him, he heard the telltale click of a blaster safety being removed to his side, a blaster pressing into his side.

If someone was angling for a fight, Paz would give them it.

Paz tilted his head to look, pausing slightly when he looked at Boba Fett through his visor as the clone of Jango Fett stared back at him.

No, not just clone.

Son.

Paz, despite his buir grumbling about Jango Fett in his youth, knew enough to recognize that Boba Fett had been a son and not just a clone, fodder for the old Republic’s army.

Unaltered and pure, an alpha.

One that currently was holding a blaster to Paz side and if Paz wasn’t wrong, the sniper was on top of the roof, rifle likely angled down at him.

So, he kept still if tense, simply stared at Fett, recognizing that this was Din’s friend.

With both the sniper and the knowledge that this person was someone Din trusted, who was willing to protect him, Paz would give him the benefit of doubt, despite the blaster pressed into his side.

For a long minute, neither of them said anything in the grey light of Nevarro’s rising sun.

Then Fett spoke. “If you hurt him, I will feed you to the same sarlaac I once ended up in with your hamstrings slit, you will wish I killed you by the time its done with you. Do you understand me?” He growled faintly, his vocoder making the sound even more menacing than a normal alpha growl.

Paz cocked his head slightly, fighting the urge to growl back before nodding. “If I hurt him, I’d do the deed myself. He’s hurt enough.” He agreed quietly, holding his ground as Fett continued staring at him, could feel the other alpha’s narrowed eyes behind the green buy’ce as sweat started to bead on the back of Paz neck.

Finally, Fett grunted and tucked his blaster onto his belt, nodding slightly. “I wager he’s still asleep?” The man questioned.

Paz nodded. “There’s only water and some bland rations in the house, I wanted to find something better for him to eat. And return before he wakes up alone, he’s rather deeply asleep but I still want to hurry.” The statement was meet with an approving grunt before Fett nodded his head and started walking.

Taking the hint, Paz followed the other, noting the dark shape jumping down from the roofs and wandering of.

He had been right, the sniper had been on the roof as he suspected.

Fett lead him to his ship in the docking bay, up the ramp and into the cargo hold, the man digging around in a crate as Paz looked around, throwing a sealed pouch at him, Paz automatically catching it and tilting it to read. “…Cassius tea?” He rumbled quietly.

“Din deserves comfort food, cassius tea is also good for health,” Fett stated absently before moving to another crate. Honestly, Paz was more shocked that the bounty hunter had proper mandalorian tea if he was honest, even as he caught the next bag Fett threw at him. “Mealgrains with dried varos fruit. Its going to be enough to get him going at least, especially if you’re considering getting some eggs?” Paz could hear the silent question in those words and nodded quietly.

His nod was meet with another approving grunt. “Do you know where I could source some egg? Or any food?” He questioned.

He had been thinking of asking Karga, he seemed fond of Din and important in town. If Paz remembered right, the man had run or still ran the bounty hunter guild. “Dune, she’s the marshal in town and she was part of the rescue team, I imagine she’d be happy to help for the verd’ika’s sake.” Fett rumbled.

Pausing slightly, Paz furrowed his brows. “…Dune…” He questioned slowly, he had to admit, he had been more focused on Din. “That’s the one with the muscled arms, right?” Paz was sure that was the name of the woman he had spoken with last night.

Thankfully, Fett nodded, Paz letting out a relieved noise that he remembered right.

‘Just stay asleep a little bit longer Din, there be some decent grubb for you when you wake up.’ Paz promised mentally, turning and heading down the ramp to find the marshal office, hoping Dune was already awake.

Buy’ce = Helmet

Verd’ika = Little soldier

bro I love your floralskin series so much, what happens after Obi-Wan and Cody talk about it???

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Breathing thickly as he woke, his chest hurting and his eyes crusty, Anakin wondered for a moment what was wrong with him as he tried to push himself up onto his elbows only to drop with a deep groan as his head throbbed.

“Anakin?” There was a muffled voice and Anakin whined, covering his eyes with a hand as light shone into the room.

There was a click, the sound of rushing water and someone spitting and then he heard steps, a door closing behind the person. The bed dipped moments later, a warm and slightly smaller hand than his wrapping around his hand, lifting it gently from his face.

Squinting, Anakin peered blearily up at a worried looking Rex, his soulmate facial flower creased by the frown he was sporting. “I’d ask how you feel but its clear you’re not well.” He murmured quietly, raising his other hand to his Jedi’s forehead, letting out a soft hiss.

Normally, Anakin would marvel at the sight of Rex wearing one of Anakin’s tunic but he honestly felt too miserable to even contemplate it.’

“You got strong fever,” Rex murmured worriedly, moving his hands slowly around the others face before huffing slightly. “Okay, you are not leaving these quarters. That meeting with the council is canceled.” He stated seriously.

“But Obi-Wan… needs me…” Anakin swallowed thickly, struggling to get up once more only to groan as Rex placed a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back into the sheets.

“General Kenobi has all the information you could give him,” Rex stated sternly before softening. “Cyare, please. You have a bad fever and you’re clearly not feeling well. Rest, I’ll call the General and inform him and IF you are needed, they’ll comm you.” He assured.

Peering blearily at the other half of his soul, Anakin hesitated before nodding, giving a small grunt at how that made his head ache.

He was honestly miserable and the idea of doing anything, even leaving the bed, sounded like a horrible action.

So he let Rex call Obi-Wan to inform him of Anakin’s condition, quietly curling up in bed instead as he rolled onto his side.

How much time had passed by the time Rex returned to him again, Anakin wasn’t sure but he let out a grateful little noise when Rex pressed a cool gel pack onto his forehead. “I cooked some plain rice, do you think you could eat that?” Rex murmured.

Squinting at the small bowl in Rex lap, Anakin paused a bit. “…Is that Ahsoka’s treat bowls?” He questioned with some amusement as he took in the size and black décore on the white bowl.

Ahsoka had a few small bowls that she would fill with treats, trying not to eat too many at a time. It generally failed because she’d refill it more than twice but hey, Anakin wasn’t about to call her on that.

Rex let out a small chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, figured you wouldn’t want a lot of rice if you ate any at all. So, what do you say?” Rex lifted a spoonful of rice from it, offering Anakin the lukewarm grains.

Peering at it for a moment, Anakin let out a small huff before opening his mouth, chewing slowly when Rex popped it in.

He knew he should eat something and some rice wasn’t the worst thing to test. Obi-Wan used to feed him puffed rice crackers when he was younger but Anakin would often forget to buy them in for himself.

The rice however was fine and while it settled a tad heavily, he did empty the bowl.

When Rex tried to leave though, Anakin let out a soft whine and wrapped his arms around his captain’s waist, giving him a doe eyed look.

Rex hummed but set the bowl on the nightstand. Then he carefully tucked himself under the blanket, pulling Anakin’s head to his chest. “Alright, just until you fall asleep runi.” He whispered.

Anakin let out an agreeable noise to that, pressing his nose to Rex chest.

The other smelled nice and listening to Rex heartbeat was always nice. Hell, just sharing the bed with him was nice, despite Anakin being ill.

‘If only every day could be like this, even though I’m sick.’ Anakin mused to himself with a smile.

Runi = Soul

More of a comment anything for sightless bird although you can take this as a request. Now that Obi-Wan is a week does that mean fox is going to plan out how to kill the counselor?  

Posted on av swmoddy

The worst part of his murder plans is that Fox actually feels pretty apathetic about them.

He technically doesn’t have strong feelings about the Chancellor, he is just a man, a corrupt and evil man, at least in Fox eyes considering he tried to kill their Birdie, but still just a man.

If he focused more on that, well, then Fox could feel more about it.

But he is aware that the man is Force sensitive, he’s studied the man he’s been protecting for all these months of the war.

Fox refuses to believe that the man isn’t at least somewhat trained with those powers, maybe not a Jedi level of power but some kind of training at least.

That means that strong emotions would alert the man to any potential murder plans.

Which is why Fox approaches said plans with an apathetic calmness and a clinical detachment, so to prevent the man from being too suspicious or cautious about what is going on around him.

Its also why he refuses to tell anyone else about his plans to dispatch the Chancellor.

He knows his vode, he loves them, some more and some less but it doesn’t change that they are family and he cares about all of them.

He’s not sure all of them can keep the same emotional detachment as Fox as he carefully plans his murder, starting with the Chancellor office starts to fill with gas. Not enough to start effecting the air quality of course, he can’t have the alarms go of.

But enough that it will harm the man, enough that as the Chancellor breathes it in, that his organs starts to slowly decay, enough that Fox knows that the cause will look natural.

Of course, there are details to iron out, to narrow down which gas to use, to ensure it will work, getting one that is odorless and colorless.

Obi-Wan to keep safe.

Skywalker to keep clueless.

He can’t have Jedi drama going on when he gets the Chancellor out of the way.

Which is why he manages to get the orders through that Obi-Wan and Skywalker, along with the 501st, get sent to Kamino to meet up with Jinn and the 212th.

The Jedi under the guise of doing some checkups on the future troops with General Ti and the troopers to help train their younger vode.

But the truth was that Fox went slice happy with a few of his Coruscant Guard hackers and got them sent to safety.

Anything to keep their little birdie safe.

()()()

Tiredly holding onto Anakin’s belt, Obi-Wan let out a soft noise as a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, bringing him into the older Jedi’s side. “Just another half hour and you can take a small nap padawan.” Anakin promised quietly, rubbing lightly at his shoulder.

Obi-Wan simply nodded, pressing closer to Anakin’s side as the conversation of the council and Master Qui-Gon washed over him in a low buzz. The healers had only just allowed him out of bed and cleared him for field work.

Light field work.

Apparently the observation of the troopers on Kamino was considered light, though, considering it would be Anakin doing most of the notes and decision along with Qui-Gon and Ti, that wasn’t really all that surprising.

Obi-Wan suspected that he would end up following Cody and Rex around for the most part.

The latter had been hovering a lot since Obi-Wan had entered the Resolute, following only a few steps away from him at all times and every time Obi-Wan as much as sniffled or swayed a bit in place, he could feel the poor captain’s anxiety rise.

He knew why.

He knew why the entire 501st got so antsy about him.

He wasn’t ignorant after all and while he didn’t feel so good about making them worry, it was nice to know they cared about him, just as they had cared about Ahsoka before she left.

Pressing his face to Anakin’s side, feeling his head throb a bit, Obi-Wan let the conversation around him buzz as he tried to meditate standing, Anakin’s warm arm wrapped protectively around him.

If the bridge and the conversations grew a bit quieter without the tired and healing padawan noticing it, well… no one could say that the Jedi and troopers didn’t care about younglings and tried to indulge them as best they could in these hard times.

Yay, a new story! SeveredStomach had me on the edge of my seat!! So GOOD! So, what I want to know is this: How much of a close call will it be? I mean, I know you: Din lives, obviously. But! *stares eagerly in anticipation* Will it be obvious when he’s found that he’s alive? Or will there be an angsty moment from his rescuer(s) like, ‘oh no I was too late he is dead’, before Din proves to still be hanging on? (Either way, I will of course still be super stoked to see this continue! Can’t wait!)

Posted on av swmoddy

Tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, Boba ignored Fennec’s sharp look from the side as he continued making noise. He had an excess of energy and needed some way to work it out and since they didn’t have a person Boba could bash into the floor, well, this would have to do.

Outside of the viewscreen, hyperspace flitted by in a shower of bright light and blue and nothing Boba could do would would make things go faster.

Din’s emergency signal had gone of, sent of by the man himself instead of the time limit Boba had installed. Had the cockpit been unused for a week, it would have sent of a message to Boba’s gauntlet but no, Din himself had sent of this one.

It meant that Din, reckless, stupid Din, had looked at himself and realized that he was in severe problems and needed aid and no amount of hailing on the comms had Din responding.

Boba wasn’t sure what that meant.

He could make some guesses of course but wasn’t sure which one would be the right one and human imagination could be so much worse than the truth. So he tried not to imagine what kind of situation Din had landed himself in even as he had stocked the medbay of Slave 1 to the brim with supplies.

The King of Tatooine trusted few, his position was still precarious and leaving wasn’t in his best interest but… Din…

Din, who had such difficulty in asking for aid for himself, Din, who Boba could trust with his own life and business, Din, who could not be trusted with his own life.

Din had asked for help for once and Boba would answer it and where he went, Fennec followed these days.

Plus, regardless how much she might feign disinterest, he knew she was fond of their silver covered mandalorian.

Which was why they were both flying through space to Atanan-V to find their lost bounty hunter.

Hopefully, they weren’t too late.

()()()

Landing the piece of scrap he had ‘borrowed’ from a scrapyard onto the muddy ground, Paz eyed the other ship with trepidation even as he knew there weren’t any living signs around, Paz having scanned the surroundings before he dared to land.

It wasn’t the Razor Crest and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Honestly, Paz wasn’t sure what to make of the emergency signal either, still faintly beeping on his gauntlet. Din Djarin was a stubborn son of a bitch and there had only been two instances before the covert was exposed on Nevarro that the di’kut had used it in all his bounty hunter years.

Both times Din had been on the verge of death and had they been any later, Din would not be here today.

If he was alive.

Paz wasn’t sure what he was going to find inside the other ship, if it even was Din.

But it couldn’t be anyone else, only Din, their beroya, had this particular emergency signal.

It couldn’t be sourced from a terminal, the inbuilt code meant it auto destroyed itself after a week, it had to input every week for it to be usable.

A security, to keep the covert safe, to ensure their beroya couldn’t be used for them if caught.

It could only be input by a person that knew it.

Din.

Just Din.

Their beroya, their breadwinner.

Disengaging the ramp of the barely flying scrap metal he had dared to fly, Paz hefted his canon onto his back and made his way out, knowing he needed to investigate, to make sure but not being stupid about it as he scanned the surrounding area with his helmet.

Good thing he did too, picking up the signals that the ship was currently active with defenses.

Paz paused uncertainly, staring at the ship. He wasn’t a slicer, had never had the patience or mind to learn that particular skill and seeing as how he should be visible from the cockpit, it meant that whoever was in there hadn’t disengaged it.

Or couldn’t.

Paz mind flashed to the last time Din had used the emergency signal, to the blood covered cuirass of the beroya as he was transported to the ship that had come to his rescue. ‘I don’t have that much bacta.’ Paz swallowed thickly, shifting on his feet, the mud squelching under his boots, dusky rain falling down around him.

When the signal had arrived, Paz hadn’t thought.

Just acted, as he often did if he was honest.

It could be counted as both a flaw and a pro honestly, a pro when in battle, acting quickly often saved his life. But other times, it landed him in situations like this, standing without proper gear and no backup.

The potential of a survivor from the covert had been too alluring, the idea of finding Din again slamming Paz with a need he thought he’d overcome by aiding Din with the foundling.

Standing outside the ship though, Paz wished he had thought to bring someone with him, to fill his ship with better supplies.

Because either Din was not in that ship or he was too injured to move and disengage the protections set in place.

Neither prospect was good.

Grumbling, Paz only got another minute of peace to stare at the ship before the sound of another ship in atmosphere had him tensing, his head snapping up and around to find a spot of growing darkness on the grey sky.

Another ship was approaching.

Enemies?

Or did whoever, be it Din or someone else, send for more aid than the beroya signal. Honestly, Paz hoped it was the latter.

Din would have been alone for a long time and the idea of him having backup was slightly soothing… but Paz wouldn’t know until whoever was arriving landed and since he couldn’t do anything else…

Paz settled to wait, his canon pulled of his shoulder and into his hands just in case as he moved closer to the ship without touching it.

If they were friendlies, they wouldn’t dare shoot on the ship at the very least. ‘Let us hope its allies, eh verd’ika?’ Paz mused as the ship came fully into view, an old Firespray from the looks of it.

Di’kut = Idiot

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Verd’ika = Little soldier

if you’re still doing distant pain, could we see more stories from obi-wan’s black ops missions/obi-wan being completely reckless and how the clones react to that? maybe some angst from obi-wan worrying he’s not enough for others after qui gon gave him up?? you’re an amazing writer!!!

Posted on av swmoddy

Gingerly taking a step while holding onto Dogma’s arm, Obi-Wan let out a low groan as it pulled on tender healed skin as his foggy head finally started pushing blood in the right directions. “Shitty titty… blasted naked besalisk, fucking six titted-aaaah.” He grumbled deeply and paused, ignoring both Rex and Cody giving him bemused look and Dogma’s vaguely horrified one.

Zuru was just too used to his General’s behavior to take notice of the cursing and the rather… uniqueness of it. Which was why he was just sitting cross legged on Obi-Wan’s bed, watching closely as Obi-Wan tryingly started walking around after hanging upside down.

“Next time I see Dooku, I’m shoving my lightsaber up his arse.” Obi-Wan growled before carefully pulling away from Dogma’s arm and moving on his own, breathing out heavily as it still made his head feel a bit faint.

But he felt better as he moved, healing skin stretching nicely after the bacta had healed it even if it was sore along with his head.

“Where in galaxy have you seen six tits?” Rex couldn’t finally help but ask, scratching at his blond fuzz.

“Ever seen a naked jawa?” Obi-Wan bounced back, moving between the beds with stronger and stronger steps, ignoring how the rest of the tent paused at the reply.

Dogma gained a more obviously horrified look, echoed by both Rex and Cody, Helix squinting thoughtfully at the ceiling of the tent.

“Okay, hold up, you’ve seen a naked Jawa?” Zuru blinked at him. No one saw a naked jawa, they didn’t undress in front of outsiders from what people could tell and they got really territorial and angry if you tried to pull their hoods down.

“More like stripped it, I had to find my lightsaber somehow, little weasel thought I didn’t notice he stole it.” Obi-Wan grumbled as he paused and carefully stretched. All the bed laying and coddling had left him feeling stiff but thankfully the medics were willing to let him up now.

He ignored the disturbed and shocked looks of the troopers around him as he continued lightly stretching.

People didn’t just undress jawas after all but that was what Obi-Wan had been required to do, to get his lightsaber back.

Finally finished stretching, Obi-Wan turned and gave Zuru an expectant look.

The pilot, attuned as he was to Obi-Wan’s behavior, simply shook his head and threw him a black pouch.

Grinning happily, Obi-Wan made his way over to the mirror, set the black pouch onto the closest surface and fished out a tube of hair mousse from his products.

Quietly, most of the troopers watched Obi-Wan rub the hair product between his hands and run it through his hair, working it up into the faux mohawk he normally sported. “To be fair, I couldn’t have the little bastard open the case, if it found out I had a lightsaber, I’d either have to do some fast talking to convince the mandalorians I was with that I killed a Jedi or flee, compromising my mission.” He drawled slightly.

Perking up, Cody tilted his head. “Mandalorians? You worked with some?” He asked curiously, a tad hopefully. Obi-Wan had come to learn that a lot of the vode liked to assimilate mandalorian culture into their own.

Not really a shock, their progenitor was after all one, had hired many mandalorian teachers that taught the initial troopers and those later on had taught their own brothers.

The blood of true Mandalore flowed through the clones, regardless what kind of complicated view the other mandalorians had on them.

“Spied on them,” Obi-Wan corrected easily, not letting his thoughts escape, tilting his head back and forth before reaching into the bag again for a can of spray. “Death Watch, they’re officially listed as terrorists organization, even by the Republic despite staying on Mandalore most of the time but most consider them a ‘bygone’ threat.” Obi-Wan’s lips pulled into a sneer, alerting everyone what he thought of that decision.

“So you were spying on them to…what?” Rex questioned curiously.

“Correction, I was fucking the leader for information,” Obi-Wan smirked to himself, ignoring the aghast expressions in the mirror. Pre Vizla had been an easy mark for him and chatty once in bed. “To be fair, flash a bit of stewjoni blood at a true mandalorian and they kinda lose their mind, tack in the fact that I could fight and am decently attractive, especially back at twenty five, piece of cake infiltration really.” He chuckled quietly.

Before someone could respond to that, another person spoke up, clearly horrified. “Did the council send you on honeypot missions after you left me?” A strangled voice from the front of the tent question and Obi-Wan paused, turning his head to look at Qui-Gon.

He narrowed his eyes faintly before shrugging. “We do ours for the cause, Deatch Watch leader is a man of convictions with little morals and I knew my duty. Getting him to talk was difficult. So yes.” He turned back, spraying his hair so it would hold the mohawk shape.

Was he proud of that part of his missions repertoire?

No. Had it been necessary to get Pre Vizla talking?

Yes.

Obi-Wan knew that his information had at least helped keep Death Watch from abducting more children and kept them from infiltrating offices of the New Mandalorian government.

Even if Satine refused to listen to sense.

His lip curled a bit as he thought of his old flame before firmly snuffing the thought. If she wanted to suppress everything that made a Mandalorian into a Mando or exile those that didn’t listen, then fine, on her head be the cultural genocide.

She wanted to be the Senate’s little voice, she could stay there and rot for all he cared.

But Obi-Wan had washed his hands on all that, he had given her the information she’d need and what had she done with it?

Nothing.

‘It is times like this I very much wish Jango Fett had become Mand’alor, at least this travesty of a pale imitation culture wouldn’t exist. Nor would the black markets for traditional Mandalorian items.’ He mused to himself, ignoring Qui-Gon watching him with stricken eyes in the mirror.

The clones move forward with their plan to take down the senate. Kix finds something interesting on a fellow clones brains scan that sends alarm bells ringing.- Dangerous Galaxy

Posted on av swmoddy

Looking up from his pad, Cody raised a brow as Wolffe entered the meeting room, watching quietly as his vod made his way over to the hidden cabinet to bring out the moonshine.

The gruff commander uncorked one, glanced at the others and then started chugging directly from the bottle, causing the rest to exchange resigned, worried looks.

This tended only to happen when Wolffe was geared up from something, generally something relating to his Jedi and with everything the troopers were figuring out about how the Senators treated them, a lot were automatically going that direction.

It didn’t get any better when Rex, with Kix in tow, also went straight for the booze, the two clicking the bottles together before chugging.

Pressing his face into his hands, letting out a deep sigh, Cody wondered if he really wanted to know before his mind reminded him that if it had to do with the Jedi, he had to know with what they were planning to do. “…Okay, what’s up?” He finally questioned after a few moments of the two drinking.

Poor Kix looked lost and a bit disapproving at how his captain and the commander was chugging alcohol but the medic instantly turned to Cody at the question. “We have biochips in our heads.” He announced darkly.

Pausing, Cody stared at him before sighing deeply and getting to his feet, moving over to Wolffe and Rex, holding out his hand while mentally noting that he hoped someone refilled the secret cabinet, it was getting a tad empty.

Rex quietly handed over one of the blank bottles and watched Cody chug from it. “Okay, we’ll talk about that after the meeting. Wolffe?” He turned to his vod, ignoring the shifting holos behind him of the other commanders and captains.

“General Plo let it slip that one of the CIS senators once broke his arm.” Wolffe grumbled, glaring at Cody.

Freezing, bottle of moonshine at his lips, Cody’s mind suddenly kicked into high gear.

Of course, of karking course.

The CIS had Senators in the Rotunda once too.

Karking hell.

Of course they too had access to the Jedi at some point.

Slowly he lowered his bottle, letting a deep breath out through his nose. “You get the name from the General?” He questioned, sighing quietly when Wolffe nodded. “Good, I’ll bring the issue up with Senator Amidala when I meet with her again, get some names… I know she has a big black book, actual book, with names for us.” He murmured tiredly.

He ignored Rex and Wolffe exchanging surprised looks. Padme had explained that she kept the black book with her at all times and inserted names as she either heard from the grape wine or saw for herself that someone hurt the Jedi.

A book, made of paper, after all could not be hacked and a book, simply filled with a random amount of names could mean anything. After all, the Senator was smart enough not to fill in the reason on the paper why those particular names were in it.

Things were starting to line up now, three more weeks and they’d take the Senate and Cody’s gut bubbled a bit with the thought of it.

Troopers were already cautiously being rerouted towards Coruscant, quite a bit of slicing around the natborns required to not let them get suspicious. Hell, Cody had even managed to get Tarkin’s battalion rerouted to Coruscant.

He was one of the natborns that would be a casualty of the coup. Cody did not want a man that disregarded his vode as Tarkin around for the aftermath.

They wouldn’t strictly need the superior numbers, looking at it from a logical point. Most of the Senators had no task force of their own and couldn’t fight worth shit but a voice, deep in Cody’s head, wanted more trooper feet on Coruscant.

Something deep in his mind.

Quietly, he turned his head towards Kix, watching the other quietly converse with Fox. That same little voice whispered that he now knew why he wanted the troopers on Coruscant.

Biochips were things slavers used, he had learned about them after Zygerria.

They were normally implanted into a slave with trigger words, trigger orders.

It could make a normally docile person suddenly turn into a violent maniac with the correct phrase or make someone that constantly fought kneel, the right words and suddenly a person might drop to their knees without understanding why.

Makers, sometimes they didn’t even realize that the order was wrong, that it wasn’t something they’d normally do.

A chill went up Cody’s back at the thought of being forced to do something so ingrained against his own moral code it made him wonder…

The nightmares.

Cody’s hand went tight on the bottle, his eyes widening as the thought occurred to him.

The GAR wide nightmare, the nightmare every member of the entire GAR experienced at least once a week if not more.

The nightmares of murdering their own Jedi, even the young ones.

Could it be that?

He knew, from working closely with Obi-Wan, that the question of the clones creation had always been a weird, blurry spot. The idea of Dooku ordering clones for the Jedi, along with the Jedi he had been working with, always having had big question marks with it, but what if it was so simple as these biochips.

What if the creation of the clone army, what if the nightmares and these biochips were related?

Cody suddenly felt very sick, his own dreams of turning his blaster on Obi-Wan, surfacing hard and fast and he wanted to vomit even as he slowly made his way to his seat, sitting down heavily as he let the implication sink in.

If he was right…

Ka’ra.

There were so many troopers, so many of them on Coruscant at every hour of every day.

If the troopers marched on the temple, their wills wiped, with simply the order of killing every Jedi…

It be a massacre.

Would the chip even make a distinction between the healthy that could fight or the young and the impaired?

Or would they be blasting down every knight, master, padawan, youngling and bed bound Jedi?

The alcohol bubbled in his stomach and Cody felt saliva pool in his mouth, heard Rex ask quietly if he was okay, heard Fox stand as Kix was making his way around the table towards him.

But his mind was caught on Obi-Wan, the sight of his smiling face as Cody gave his saber back, the warm glow of the Jedi’s eyes before his mind twisted the image, Obi-Wan’s eyes wide and full of shock, his own saber piercing his chest, Cody holding the hilt.

Cody turned to the side, just as Kix touched his shoulder and promptly threw up all.